


developing obsession

by lunacrowne



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Cheating, Early 2000s AU, M/M, Murder, Obsession, Psychological Drama, Psychological Horror, Psychological Thriller, Stalking, Thriller, Voyeurism, With A Twist, and other deplorable things, extremely belated Halloween, one hour photo AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-16 06:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21266393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunacrowne/pseuds/lunacrowne
Summary: As a technician at the nearby pharmacy's one-hour photo counter, it's Yoongi’s job to develop the memories his customers capture on film, no matter how perverted or gruesome those memories may be. That means anything. Even murder.





	developing obsession

**Author's Note:**

  * For [endors](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=endors).

_“Make memories last for a lifetime.”_

The colorful slogan rears its ugly head above the supermarket’s one hour photo counter as Yoongi finishes processing a stack of a recent customer's group vacation photos. The subjects, seeming like close friends, are gathered around campfires with big smiles. Yoongi scowls and tucks the photos into a rigid envelope. It's an order for a customer named Hoseok. 

The photo processing lab is tucked away at the back of the mart, unassuming and a safe distance away from nearly all prying eyes and families with crying children, which Yoongi prefers anyway.

Customers that still brought in film and disposable cameras were certainly a dying breed. With the increase in smartphones and photo booths available all around Seoul, not many people had reason to stop by anymore. The one hour photo was standing on its last legs; slowly but surely becoming obsolete.

Still, Yoongi had his steady stream of customers.

Most of the times the customers who ventured into his corner were either the sentimental types that wanted to document each and every little thing in print for the purposes of nostalgia, or the deeply perverse sort that took advantage of the mart’s “print-anything” policy to develop their pornographic fantasies.

The latter of the two made Yoongi’s job that much more interesting. It was especially fascinating to witness the levels of depravity that came in on the rolls of film, ranging from filthy acts to downright strange fetishes, as long as people thought they could get away with it.

His favorite customer by far is Jeon Jungkook. 

Yoongi had gotten to know his life through the photos he developed: Jeon Jungkook liked plain white tees, had a good taste in music, and was well-traveled for his age. He was finishing up his second year of film school far away from his hometown of Busan, where he returned every Chuseok to visit his parents and older brother.

Most of Jungkook’s photos were of vibrant scenery—he had an eye for composition, Yoongi had noticed—and if there were any that he took of himself, they were most likely with his Maltese mix named Gureum. 

On the outset, Jeon Jungkook seemed like a normal customer—a soft-spoken young man of few words that enjoyed the simpler things in life. But underneath that outwardly sweet appearance, Jungkook had a dirty little secret.

Interspersed amongst the photos of scenery were risqué photos that revealed another, much more naughtier, side to the young man.

Plain white tee teasingly pulled upwards to expose the milky skin of his torso and dainty lingerie clinging at his hips, face flushed and lips bruised; or, on his knees with the most debauched expression of abandon—Jeon Jungkook had been captured in a variety of compromising positions in the nude, leaving little to the imagination what his pastimes may be.

It only irked Yoongi that someone else had taken those pictures for him.

It was certainly bold to be developing those pictures here. But Yoongi doesn't mind. It's become somewhat of a guilty pleasure that has him scouring the stacks of orders each week for Jeon Jungkook’s order.

This most recent batch of photos might be his favorite thus far. 

Yoongi reviews the negatives in the dark room and selects a few to duplicate in the enlarger. The ink still fresh on the duplicates, he tucks them into a small envelope and slips it into the back pocket of his uniform pants for later.

Yoongi knows everything about Jeon Jungkook. But when Jeon Jungkook comes to pick up his prints Yoongi has to pretend he doesn't and rehearse vacant pleasantries instead.

Today is no different. Jeon Jungkook arrives around noon to pick up his order, and his hand brushes against Yoongi’s inadvertently when Yoongi hands him the small packet of photos.

Jungkook’s hands are lovely. They’re the kind with long, slender fingers and clean fingernails. _Artist’s hands_, was the first thing that came to Yoongi’s mind when he saw them for the first time. 

The young man lingers in front of the counter a little longer than usual, sifting through the contents with a blank expression. Yoongi has to prevent his gaze from wandering to the collar of the young man's shirt; wondering, if the fabric dipped down further enough, would he be able to see the fading bruises from the leather choker Jungkook had worn scandalously a week before?

Seeming satisfied with his inspection, Jungkook begins rummaging through his wallet for change. Yoongi glances around the counter to see that his coworker, Seokjin, hasn't returned from his lunch break yet.

“Don't worry about it. It’s on the house today.” Yoongi says.

Jungkook looks up from his wallet at Yoongi, those large doe eyes boring into his with utmost attention. 

“This...is a nice surprise,” he smiles shyly, brushing strands of his dark hair away from his face. “I come here pretty often, but I didn't know that there was that sort of discount going on.”

“Manager’s special.” Knowing how stingy Yoongi’s manager Shihyuk actually is, offering gratis photo prints would be the last thing on his mind.

This is actually the longest Yoongi has ever sustained a conversation with Jeon Jungkook. Seeing the man's stunning smile upfront and directed at him is better than he had imagined. The attention is nice.

“Thank you,” Jungkook starts pocketing his prints, making a move to turn.

Yoongi licks his lips.

“You take good pictures,”

Jungkook pauses for a moment. He quirks a brow inquisitively.

“You took a look at them?”

“Somehow your order had been mixed up with another customer’s. I had to...sort through them when I was clearing up the situation. Apologies. It shouldn't happen again,” Yoongi cranes his neck towards the incoming visage of his coworker in a bid to be more convincing. 

“Is that something you do for all your customers?” Jungkook’s voice is much more soft, and less apprehensive now.

“Just doing my job,” Yoongi's face scorches, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Thank you, hmm...” Jungkook steals a glance at Yoongi’s name badge. “...Yoongi hyung. You're a really nice guy, you know.”

The photo counter door swings open abruptly and Seokjin enters through the partition.

“Well I won’t be keeping you from your work.” Jungkook says with a slight, breathy laugh. “Take care. I'm sure you'll be seeing more of me soon, Yoongi hyung.”

“Was that one of the regulars?” Seokjin asks as Jungkook’s figure recedes towards the front of the mart, taking his fleeting intimacy with him.

Yoongi checks the clock. Seokjin is fifteen minutes late for his shift. He had opted for later breaks to let Seokjin take earlier lunches, to which his colleague had gladly accepted. However his lunch breaks would often go well over the hour most days, annoying Yoongi to no end. 

But today he doesn’t mind. He had gotten a chance to talk to Jungkook.

“Seems like it.” Yoongi answers without much interest.

“Looked like a very interesting conversation between you two. Probably the most I've seen you talk in one sitting,” His coworker pulls his broad-shouldered self into a chair, making it clear that he has no intentions of color-correcting any of the new film drop-offs anytime soon.

Seokjin was amicable enough, but to Yoongi it always seemed like his amiability was conditional. He knew Seokjin didn't like him that much. There had been a certain unspoken understanding between them at the start—of not prying into one another’s business unnecessarily— that kept their working relationship tolerable. But Seokjin was older, self-absorbed and had a personal vendetta for getting his way. And, with each passing day, he seemed to take enjoyment in testing those boundaries.

Sometimes he wonders why Seokjin even works here at all, considering all the other sorts of jobs he could've been offered just for his face alone. Yoongi can only conclude that Manager Shihyuk must’ve paid a premium for it. After all, taking Polaroids doesn’t make a person an actual photographer. Ultimately, though, Yoongi decides that he's never cared that much to ask.

“I'm heading out,” Yoongi says simply, slinging his camera bag over his shoulder.

“I had a good lunch,” Seokjin says, more to himself than to Yoongi. “Try out the new _soondaeguk_ place that's opened up across the street.”

Yoongi grabs a bag of chips and a beer from the convenience store around the corner instead of heading for the _soondaeguk_ restaurant Seokjin had mentioned, and makes his way towards the park overlooking a quiet street half a block away.

He situates himself in one of the seating areas of the park, facing the windows of a small cafe.

Through the windows, he sees a decent amount of people gathered within the storefront considering the time of day. Yoongi focuses his gaze on two men engaging in conversation at one of the corner tables.

The pair seated appear to be having a great time, their books and coffee cups remaining untouched in the midst of their tête-à-tête. It's apparent the taller of the two, a gallant-looking man wearing thick-framed glasses that lend him a professorial air, is leading the conversation while his table partner listens on with great interest.

Yoongi knows about Jungkook’s longtime older boyfriend, Kim Namjoon.

The boyfriend didn't appear in the pictures often, but Yoongi knows that he has been the one taking them. He recognizes those tanned, sinewy hands of Namjoon’s as the same ones pressed into the flesh of Jungkook’s back on multiple occasions.

Besides physically superseding Yoongi in every way—being tall and charismatic, with tanned skin and a well-built body—he was above all one lucky bastard. His face though, was nothing special. 

Kim Namjoon was a private English tutor of sorts, the type that met with students one-on-one around Seoul and occasionally, visited students’ homes. He didn't have as good of a business as one would’ve thought. However, he was certainly in the business of meeting with students for reasons aside from just tutoring.

The young man Namjoon is with is dressed a little too well to be a typical student of his. He is gorgeous in a different way than Jeon Jungkook is, boasting a petite frame underneath a slim-fitted turtleneck. Despite his neat and put together appearance, his mannerisms are coy, almost unabashedly so. Namjoon and the mystery male laugh and touch each other a little too flirtatiously for it to be just a normal tutoring session. 

They exit the cafe together in the same manner, and after a brief walk down the street, end up entering a car tucked in the alleyway. Now Yoongi understands why they had chosen this area today for their clandestine meeting.

Thinking they are away from prying eyes, the boyfriend starts making out vigorously with the unfamiliar man. Too caught up in their passion, they continue like this for some time, fogging up the windows in the process.

Before they drive off Yoongi gets a clear shot of it—their guilt.

Yoongi balls up the chip wrapper in his hands and tosses the can into the bin next to him. 

This has got to have been one of his most productive lunch breaks yet.

  


///

  


The subway ride home is crowded and uneventful, like clockwork.

Clockwork is good; he has somewhere he needs to be. 

Yoongi observes the riders sharing the cramped compartment with him. Students, businesspeople, and travelers in more than one sense of the word. None of them stood out to him, like he didn't stand out to them. 

The multitude of faces, all engrossed in their phones, pay him no mind while he forms his assumptions on which of the few might be harboring damning secrets. This is the hidden luxury afforded by public transportation. Sometimes Yoongi prefers it to driving his car for this very reason.

Exiting the station, he blends in with the bustle of the streets and heads towards his run-down apartment complex. The building is nothing special, but passes for something close to home in this city. The first thing Yoongi does when he walks in through the door of his small studio is make a beeline for his gallery wall.

A curated selection of his best work, the wall is the centerpiece of Yoongi’s sparsely furnished apartment. Having started from the leftmost corner of the living area, now it covers the expanse of the dining room and has no signs of stopping soon.

In an earlier time, Yoongi had aspired to make a name for himself in obscure galleries, perhaps grace a couple spreads in top publications. Unfortunately, life didn't work out that way.

Being stuck in a dead-end photo technician job was sort of the furthest from the ideal he had imagined for himself when he was finishing up photography school. Just a passion for photography hadn't been enough to put food on the table or keep a roof over his head during the years he struggled with unemployment.

But that was okay. If not for this job, he wouldn’t have met Jeon Jungkook.

Yoongi takes out the crisp package of developed prints he had snuck out from underneath Seokjin’s nose. He draws a photo from the top of the stack, examining the image. With a thumb Yoongi traces over the visage of perfectly mussed dark hair and glassy doe eyes, the image looking otherwise innocent if not for the overly suggestive way Jungkook holds the lollipop in between his delicate cherry lips.

Yoongi tacks the new picture onto his wall with the others; perfect additions to his growing collection. He steps back to admire his work. It had taken absolute dedication to painstakingly collect these photos—a favorite a week for the past year and a half.

As much as Yoongi enjoys curating photos of Jungkook’s with explicit tastes, he finds he likes the candid, everyday ones just as much: Jungkook caught playing with his hair during a sunlit breakfast, or polishing off a pint underneath the cozy lights of a local bar. Photographed in the scenes before him, the dreamlike quality of Jungkook’s gaze is entrancing and reserved for Yoongi’s eyes only. In front of this wall Yoongi is no longer a stranger but the omniscient.

Here, it’s easy to be transported into a reverie of the narrative that should be; the narrative that _he_ could create—

If only Jungkook’s smiles were for him.

The young man is beautiful. Yoongi just wishes maybe one day he could be the one that could touch him like that. For now, living vicariously through photos of Jungkook was enough.

As Yoongi finishes uploading the last of the pictures off of his DSLR, he makes note of the time. He exchanges his bright and gaudy work uniform for an attire of all black hues, feeling much more comfortable about embarking on his nightly drive.

Jeon Jungkook lived with Kim Namjoon in one of the more affluent neighborhoods surrounding Hannam. The house had been Namjoon's before Jungkook had moved in six months ago, suggesting some sort of inheritance or trust fund at play.

Yoongi parks underneath a broken streetlight, waiting in the shadows until he sees Jungkook’s car pull up onto the driveway.

The young man had the tendency to wrap up projects late most days this quarter, but he always made sure be home at a reasonable time. There is the slightest tipsiness in his steps, suggesting he has maybe had a little to drink beforehand, likely with a classmate named Yugyeom and his friends.

Namjoon receives Jungkook at the door like a good boyfriend would, greeting the young man with the same passion he had reserved for his student paramour in the car earlier in the day, and later on indiscreetly while he fucked him in a love hotel.

Perhaps Jungkook is too inebriated to notice any signs of wrongdoing on his boyfriend’s part, stumbling through the door with Namjoon in a fit of giggles.

It really is infuriating.

Within ten minutes Namjoon has Jungkook pinned against the second-story bedroom window baring all—even the bruises on his neck Yoongi had struggled to see before—ploughing him hard and fast from behind. Granted, their activities were concealed by a sheer piece of drapery, but it wasn’t nearly opaque enough to hide their indecency from any passersby that cared to look up. Some part of him is sure that Jungkook actually likes being watched, given the exhibitionist streak in some of his photos.

At some point they finish—Jungkook finishes all over the window and the drapery he had been pressed against. Sated and on shaky legs he is led away by Namjoon out of view, the lights dimming in the house.

Yoongi sighs and wipes his hands with tissue. There is some relief, and some disappointment, that it's over.

As much as Yoongi hates to admit it, Jungkook is positively enamored with Namjoon. Knowing what Namjoon has been doing behind his back, multiple times, would certainly be devastating. But Yoongi _needed _him to be devastated so that he could see Kim Namjoon for who he really was—a liar and a cheater.

Jungkook deserved better, and he deserved to know the truth.

Yoongi would see to it that he would.

  


///

  


Standing over the photos comprising of Jeon Jungkook’s order the following week, Yoongi unwraps the paper bundle he had prepared in his hands. All of the photos contained within the bundle document the course of Kim Namjoon’s affairs, with only the most unduly salacious moments making the cut.

For a moment Yoongi hesitates, wondering if he should move forward with his choice.

He knows he isn’t fooling anyone; his reasons are far from noble. But if there’s one maxim that’s gotten him this far, it’s that, if he wanted something—_someone_—as bad as he did Jungkook, he would have to put in work. 

And Yoongi had put a lot of work into this very moment.

Yoongi slips the doctored photos in discreetly with the rest of the order and marks the envelope for the “pickups” bin. There’s no going back now.

For the rest of the morning he waits in anticipation. Yoongi pretends to busy himself with a couple of wallet print orders, reprinting a few more than necessary on the company’s dime, when he hears Jungkook’s voice at the counter. 

Fortunately enough, it appears that Seokjin has returned from his lunch break—miraculously on-time—and is currently manning the register. He doesn’t think he can face Jungkook, at least not yet.

Yoongi hears the two men start chatting, with Seokjin confirming the order total with the young man.

Jungkook doesn't ask for him. It's not as if Yoongi had been expecting him to—he’s probably even forgotten Yoongi’s name by now. Yoongi is confident though, that soon enough the name to be forgotten would be Namjoon’s.

Jungkook is kind, but Jungkook doesn’t forgive easily.

As soon as he’s sure the photos are in Jungkook’s hands, Yoongi blurts out some sort of hodge-podge reason to Seokjin in order to excuse himself from his post, tailing Jungkook out of the store and into the parking structure next to it.

Jungkook opens the package with glee once in his car, seeming to look through them contentedly until he reaches the last few. A visible frown forms on his face as he examines Yoongi’s doctored photos.

After flipping through them all, Jungkook throws them down onto the passenger seat. Though Yoongi can’t tell just yet if it’s confusion, hurt or anger that’s brewing in Jungkook’s thoughts, he is sure that whatever it is has him casting his doubts on his relationship with Kim Namjoon. The young man’s grip on the steering wheel tightens substantially before he finally starts the car and drives away. 

Yoongi removes himself from behind the concrete column he had been observing behind. He’s certain that he knows where Jungkook will be headed to tonight. For now, he heads back to the mart and reminds himself to bring his camera.

The curtains are fully drawn but the lights are on in the house when Yoongi arrives back in Hannam later that night. The curtains are never fully drawn.

He parks outside on the street and waits for the fight that’s undoubtedly unfolding inside the house. He wishes there could be some way for him to hear the exchange, but he can picture it just as well. There was no way for Kim Namjoon to sweet talk his way out of this one.

As if on cue, Jungkook storms out of the house and into his car, furiously pulling out of the driveway. Namjoon’s tall figure is left standing in a stupor by the doorframe. It makes for a great picture that Yoongi captures with his camera.

It’s all playing out even better than he had imagined it would. Yoongi could ruin Kim Namjoon’s life if he wanted to—really _destroy _him, if he wanted to—with a push of a virtual button. But it looks like he doesn’t have to, if he’s on his way out of Jungkook’s life.

“Someday we’ll look back at this as a fond memory,” Yoongi muses. It’s but a small victory, and Yoongi will take it.

Pleased that everything has gone according to plan, Yoongi has his hand on the transmission when he hears another car pull up onto the driveway not long after.

It’s the student Kim Namjoon had been with the other day. Yoongi wouldn’t bother himself with the details of who the tutor is seeing. He could have Namjoon if he wanted; Yoongi could care less.

Inviting his affair into the very house he shared with Jungkook though— clearly Kim Namjoon had no sense of shame. 

What was one more photo to commemorate the occasion?

  


///

  


Following the events of that night, Jungkook has ceased his regular visits to the one-hour photo counter. 

It’s not that he has stopped taking photos— based on the various social media sites the younger man frequents, that’s definitely not the case—but rather has been participating in a self-imposed hiatus.

Naturally it would take some time for Jungkook to get over the breakup, but it is ultimately for the better. After all, Kim Namjoon has yet to make any efforts to win Jungkook back.

There was no sense in rushing things now. Yoongi’s been patient all this time; it wouldn’t hurt to wait just a bit longer. He would appear at Jungkook’s side, when the time was right.

Still, it’s become such a habit to check for Jungkook’s photos, Yoongi might as well be one of Pavlov’s dogs.

The days feel like they’ve been passing a lot slower now that he has something to look forward to. It’s the waiting that kills. 

Bored, Yoongi decides to check the “drop-offs” bin for the umpteenth time in a bid to find something better to do. It had been empty, of course, when he last checked it, but he figures it would be better than just sitting around twiddling his thumbs. Manager Shihyuk wouldn’t like that one bit.

Something catches his eye. Yoongi peers deeper into the bin. Whatever is at the bottom catches a glint of the ceiling’s harsh fluorescent lighting. It is an undeveloped roll of film. He had thought that he had cleared out the bin during his morning rounds, and that it had stayed empty, but someone must have came in and dropped them off while he was out on lunch.

Yoongi pulls the roll from the bin’s depths and examines it. A small label is stuck onto the bottom of the canister, reading the name _Park Jimin_ in small, neat scrawl. The feminine-sounding name strikes Yoongi as familiar, though he can’t exactly pinpoint where he had heard it before. If it belonged to a woman, well, that would certainly be a change of pace.

Seeing that there is no customer information form anywhere near the film, Yoongi sighs. How sloppy. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was Seokjin who left it for him to take care of.

Keeping his expectations low, Yoongi runs the film through the washing cycle. It’s a delicate process he’s mastered over the years, and something he takes pride in.

There are thirty five pictures in total—without a doubt, this is a full roll. Yoongi makes a mental note of this as he hangs the negatives up to dry.

The body in the first picture that he sees belongs to a man. His body is slight, with features Yoongi would dare even describe as petite for a male. 

Was this Park Jimin?

In the next picture the camera pans to the man’s face, providing a closer look at the young man’s face.

Yoongi recognizes the face.

He had watched him. Watched him indulging in illicit acts with Kim Namjoon, clinging onto the older man like some sort of slutty love struck puppy dog, for lack of a better term.

There are multiple pictures of Park Jimin bound and gagged on a dirty mattress.

The lusty haze of the young man’s unfocused eyes, the dip of his naked back, and the faint markings visible on his skin can be easily misconstrued as trademarks of a particularly rough sexual encounter.

As the photos progress though, it's clear that the condition of Park Jimin’s body is quickly deteriorating. Markings develop into bruises that discolor his skin; the traces of fresh lacerations imprinted onto his neck. At some point the young man appears to plead with someone outside of the shot, open wounds and gashes bleeding across his once handsome face. It may be a trick of the light, but it looks to Yoongi like he’s missing an ear.

The next sequence depicts a sharp blade slashing deeply into his throat, potentially having severed his head at the neck. It almost seems too exaggerated for it to be real; an act.

But Park Jimin’s eyes are glazed over, his pupils dilated like lifeless black saucers. There is no mistaking the absolute death in those eyes.

And then…the photos after that depict scenes so gruesome that Yoongi has to look away. Yoongi has to really process what he’s seeing here.

This is actual photographic evidence of Park Jimin’s murder.

And whoever murdered him, wanted Yoongi to see this.

Yoongi’s hand trembles as he continues advancing the roll. There is one final picture in the sequence. The last picture is a close-up of someone’s writing, presumably a letter.

What’s life like behind the lense?

Following up further down along the page,

_Do you like what you see?_

“Hey Yoongi! What’s taking you so long?”

Seokjin’s voice echoes from outside the darkroom. There is the sound of Seokjin leaving the partition and heading towards the developing room.

He couldn't let Seokjin see this.

Without thinking, Yoongi grabs the developed photos and the corresponding negatives, stuffing them into a light proof black bag. Spotting the outlet strip linking to a line of older printer models, Yoongi immediately plugs it into the main outlet. The resulting power surge trips the circuit breaker and causes a blackout in the lab.

He hears his coworker cursing nearby. It will definitely be a pain to salvage film still stuck in the machines later, but this is a risk Yoongi will have to take.

During the commotion he takes the chance on shoving the bag into the back pocket of his uniform, successfully stowing away what is now—most certainly— evidence.

  


///

  


The disappearance of Park Jimin throws the district into a frenzy.

He was a dance student from a well-known academy in Gangnam that had gone missing about two weeks ago. His roommate, fellow student Kim Taehyung, had reported him missing when he didn't come home the night after a scheduled rehearsal. Days later, his phone and other belongings were found intact on the banks of the Han River.

The press have deemed the case as high profile, and one of the most profound in years due to the nature of the investigation. While the evidence points to potential suicide, police haven't ruled out foul play.

Known as the “campus sweetheart”, the number of people that hold vigil for Jimin’s return is vast. Classmates vouch for his sweet and caring nature without ever having suspected the deviant character that lurked within.

What they didn’t know was that Park Jimin had been living a double life.

While appearing to be a promising and talented student on the surface, Park Jimin had, in reality, been struggling with his academics. He had nearly lost his dance scholarship due to failing grades. Jimin had not told anyone, including his roommate, where he would go in the afternoons—only that he would be studying. “Studying” in secret with a private tutor that he had become involved with for quite some time, districts away in Yongsan.

The photo of Park Jimin displayed on the signage board outside of the mart matches the face of the young man Namjoon had been cheating on Jungkook with.

And it was this same Park Jimin that had been slaughtered in those pictures Yoongi received.

Yoongi realizes he may have been the last person to witness Park Jimin alive.

“Again with that story,” Seokjin remarks with an exasperated sigh next to Yoongi. A commercial with the marketing jingle segues fluidly into the breaking news segment.

Seokjin has been keeping an eye on him since the day he tripped the circuit breaker. 

He acts nonchalant, but while developing prints Yoongi has found him hovering nearby during many instances. _Too many_ instances to be considered coincidences.

The one hour photo had been closed for a weekend while they waited for the contractor to come in and fix the machines. As expected, Manager Shihyuk hadn't let them hear the end of it. Although the repairman’s assessment had blamed the power trip on faulty wiring, Seokjin didn't seem too pleased with the resulting verdict.

Seokjin tended to complain a lot to Manager Shihyuk and other mart staff in general, but the increased frequency of his coworker’s visits to the manager’s office outside of the pay period has Yoongi on edge.

Whatever suspicions Seokjin had for him, he wasn't planning on letting go of them that easily.

One thing is for sure, though. Seokjin hadn't seen the pictures of Park Jimin. If he had, he would've called the police immediately; perhaps would’ve even tried to pin it on Yoongi. There was no reason for him not to. 

Yoongi is sure that those pictures were sent to him as a threat to keep quiet. To let him know that whoever had sent them knew he knew, and that they were watching him.

_But I've been watching you too._

Yoongi thinks he can certainly narrow down the list of who might've sent them to one person—Kim Namjoon.

He absolutely couldn't go to the police. Not now. But if it is Kim Namjoon’s doing, there was no way Yoongi was going to let him walk away scot-free. 

When the time was right, he reasoned. 

“You look like you've got a lot on your mind, Yoongi.” Seokjin clears his throat, seeming vexed at being ignored for so long.

“It’s nothing, Seokjin.”

“_Hyung_. You forgot to add _hyung_.” Yoongi has a mind to wipe that smug look off of Seokjin’s face, but he decides to entertain the man, just for now.

“My mistake, Seokjin _hyung_.”

“Evaluations are coming up soon, you know. I’ve heard Manager Shihyuk mentioning in passing that the department’s planning for an audit. It’s an important time for both of us, so it would be in your best interest to not have your head up in the clouds all the time,”

If Yoongi didn’t know any better, he would think that Seokjin must be referring to the talks that _he’s_ been having with their manager. There is absolutely no reason for Manager Shihyuk to be pressing for that audit, unless Seokjin has given him a damn good reason to. 

“Well, would you look at the time.” Having had enough of talking to a wall perhaps, Seokjin glances at the still-blaring TV. “I’m off the clock. Enjoy,”

Once his coworker leaves Yoongi releases the breath he’s been holding, unballing the fist he’s made underneath the table. The forms in his hand are all but crumpled. The last thing he needed was for Seokjin to add onto his growing list of unease.

Another week has rolled around and Jungkook hasn't come back to develop his usual roll of prints. In fact, Jungkook has completely upped and vanished. He is not in his designated areas, at the designated times, and as someone who has followed the young man’s life closely for the past two years this sense of disquiet is foreboding.

Yoongi had pulled a risky move the other day, setting foot onto Jungkook’s campus posing as his estranged brother to ask about the young man’s whereabouts. Classmates hadn’t seen Jungkook around, but were quick to assume he had been busy with a freelance project or another job opportunity. Interestingly enough, his university friends hadn't known about the existence of Kim Namjoon, let alone the fact that Jungkook had been dating, at all.

There is an obvious dread mounting in Yoongi’s chest, accompanying the many thoughts swimming around in his head. Could Jungkook have endured the same fate as Park Jimin?

He had been so absorbed with Kim Namjoon that he had completely sidelined the only person he cared about. The thought of Jungkook being beaten, or_ tortured_ within an inch of his life is too much to bear.

The call bell at the counter rings. Yoongi looks up to see his customer waiting for him.

A black cap and face mask obscures most of his handsome face, making it appear smaller than it already is. Even with the mask on though, the customer’s eyes are instantly recognizable.

“It’s good to see you, Yoongi hyung.”

“...Jungkook.”

The younger man who had all but disappeared is here right now in front of him. Yoongi can hardly contain his joy, and relief, at seeing Jungkook alive and well. Before he can craft any of his thoughts into a coherent sentence, Jungkook lifts one side of his mask, revealing a horrible bruise blooming on the side of his mouth, marring his once pristine face.

“Who did this? Was it him—”

Jungkook leans over the counter and slips him a blank note wrapped in a five thousand won bill, folding Yoongi’s hand securely over it.

“This—”

Yoongi glances questioningly at the piece of paper, to which all the younger man does is subtly press a finger to his lips, his expression not betraying any sort of wild emotion. Yoongi can't tell what Jungkook is thinking. Perhaps he is doing this for the CCTV installed up above.

The young man says nothing else and walks out of the store, leaving Yoongi stunned. As much as he wants to chase after Jungkook, something tells him that he shouldn’t. Jungkook has entrusted him with an answer.

A thought suddenly comes to Yoongi, who rushes into the back room. He pulls the blank note Jungkook gave him and submerges it into a tray of water at the developing station.

Surely enough blotted letters slowly emerge from the paper.

_8pm. Where you watched._

Where _did_ he watch? There were so many places that Yoongi has watched from that Jungkook couldn’t possibly have been aware of. But thinking back on it, there is only one place where he could’ve known.

Jungkook’s footsteps are so silent against the concrete of the parking lot that Yoongi barely hears them; his walk limber like the rest of him. His delicate shadow is all Yoongi sees when he slips in through the passenger side of Yoongi’s car, bringing with him the cold evening of October.

“You’ve figured it out. I knew you would, hyung.” 

Jungkook remarks strangely, sounding pleased yet especially forlorn. “Forgive me for calling you so suddenly, and like this—I didn’t know where else to turn,”

It’s like a dream. Sweet and waifish Jungkook, at his side and of his own volition.

It takes all of Yoongi’s self control to not lock the car doors and drive off with the young man in tow, even though he wants to. Every breath he shares with the young man in this confined space is exhilarating beyond belief.

He reminds himself though, that first, there were matters he needed to discuss.

“I have the pictures,” Yoongi begins as Jungkook’s eyes focus on him. “Pictures that show Park Jimin arriving at your house, pictures of Namjoon with him, and of course the pictures of his murder.”

“Will you be going to the police with those?” Jungkook asks quietly.

“It depends. This _is_ murder,” Yoongi's heart is hammering in his chest despite knowing that his face gives nothing away. “It wasn’t you who did this. It was all Kim Namjoon, wasn't it?”

“...You don’t know what a man like him is capable of,” The vivid bruise marking the edge of Jungkook’s mouth is clearly proof of that man’s true nature. “Park Jimin isn’t the first. There are others; so many more…”

“What did he make you do?”

“I did whatever he told me to because I loved him,”

_Loved_ is the keyword here. He doesn’t love Namjoon anymore. The one he loves now must be…

“I didn’t want to do any of those things—I was just afraid.” The younger man confesses, blinking back tears from his watery eyes. “God, just how stupid could I be?”

“None of this is your fault. Leave him, Jungkook. It’s not too late,”

“He’s going to kill me, hyung.” Jungkook releases a shaky breath. “I’ve said too much already. Showed you too much,”

“Is that what those pictures were? You sent those pictures of Park Jimin to me, knowing that I would see them. How were you so sure?”

“Because I _know_,” 

Jungkook suddenly wraps his arms around Yoongi, burying his face into the soft leather of Yoongi’s jacket. “...I know how you really feel about me, hyung.”

His words take Yoongi by surprise.

“I know you've been watching me. All this time, Joonie doesn't even know yet—”

“That’s…”

“—You've been wanting to touch me all this time too, right hyung?” Jungkook whispers sinful words with the innocent face of his. “After this is done, I'll be all yours. I _want_ to be yours. You'd want that right?”

Yoongi gulps at the hand trailing down his torso, hovering dangerously close to his groin.

He would. More than anything.

“Jungkook...It's not just me that has access to those photos. My coworker Seokjin is pressing for an audit. Once that's through they'll find everything, and none of us will be safe,”

There is a little bit of uncertainty that shows on Jungkook’s face, as if he'd not considered Seokjin a variable before.

“How about we strike a deal? I’ll convince him to get rid of that coworker of yours,”

“And in exchange...I have you?”

“Well, I’m not the one who sets the rules on how much of me you can have.” Jungkook laughs bitterly. “_He_ loves it when other men have their way with me, so he won't be on his guard. That’ll be the best time for us to strike. Let him take the fall for everything…”

“Can I trust you, Yoongi hyung?” 

“I’ll set you free. I promise that, Jungkook.”

Yoongi doesn't expect it, but Jungkook kisses him. It's not the fumbling sort as one would think given his innocent appearance, but Yoongi already knew that. The kiss they share is sloppy, and when they part a trail of saliva glistens on Jungkook’s bruised lips.

“I'm so lucky to have you, hyung. I’ll be waiting,” 

Jungkook exits the car, slinking underneath the dim streetlights and disappearing into the night. Yoongi is left alone still tasting sugar on his tongue and with carmine imprinted on the back of his eyelids. He thinks of the potential dangers with the pact he’s just made, and how surreal it all feels that instead of fear he only wants Jungkook more.

Once they take care of Seokjin, then it'd be one less of an annoying mouth to keep shut. And once he gains entry inside the house, he would enact his plan.

Just the picture of Namjoon together with Park Jimin was enough evidence to implicate him in Jimin's disappearance and murder. The timestamp would seal the deal. He would have Namjoon take the fall for everything, and Jungkook would have to be his.

Yoongi’s DSLR remains untouched in his lap. A part of him wishes he had captured the moment they shared so he could stow it away with the rest of his private collections. 

He wouldn't need all those pictures anymore, if he could have the real thing.

  


///

  


Seokjin is none the wiser.

Jungkook visits nearly every day now, throwing himself at Seokjin with flattery and other adulations. It doesn’t take long for the conceited man to become ensnared by Jungkook’s innocent charms. Yoongi always knew he had a thing for the innocent-looking ones anyway.

He catches Seokjin glancing his way lately, looking particularly smug with Jungkook hanging off of his arm, but Yoongi knows better. Two weeks was nothing compared to the past two years without Jeon Jungkook by his side. 

Anything now is but a testament to his devotion.

Rarely has Yoongi ever ventured into the back office of Manager Bang Shihyuk. It was its own realm within the mart—untouched by and far removed from the day-to-day slog that occurred on the sales floor. It’s clear that the numbers game prevails here; certificates and charts hang freely on the bulletin board in his office.

“You called for me, sir,” Yoongi greets the stout man sitting in the middle of the room.

“Good day, Yoongi. Have a seat,”

With a wave of his hand, the manager beckons Yoongi to sit down in the dilapidated chair in front of him. On the manager’s desk is a framed photo of an attractive young woman Yoongi doesn’t recognize as the manager’s wife.

“Has it been five years now? Your years of service have been commendable, Yoongi.” Manager Shihyuk remarks indifferently, straightening a stack of spreadsheets loudly. “You see, the reason I called you in here today is due to the results of the audit that was conducted recently. I’m sure you’re aware of it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. It’s been brought to my attention that the numbers haven't been adding up at the photo counter.” Manager Shihyuk nods at the spreadsheet in front of him. “With this amount of orders increasing every month, shouldn't the profits have increased as well? Those are now sunk costs, Yoongi—years worth of them. Where do you think they might’ve gone?”

“That may be true, but there have been a number of customers asking for their orders to be redone—ask Seokjin— he's encountered numerous instances like that too.” Yoongi attests in his defense. He knows the direction this conversation will be headed.

“But besides that, I've been hearing about some concerning news—reports of you informing customers about discounts...outside of membership promotions. At times even going as far as to give away items for free. There is reason for me to suspect that a significant portion of missing merchandise is attributed to this.”

“Are you implying that I stole? Based on what Seokjin, of all people, said?”

“Seokjin has been bringing in _sales_, Yoongi. I have yet to see what you’ve been bringing to the table, despite the number of years you have been here.”

“...So you’re letting me go,”

“You should be happy that I’m not considering pressing any charges for larceny.” The statement comes out of Manager Shihyuk’s mouth casually, as if he’s considering the weather. “Or equipment damage, for that matter.”

“I consider it very generous on my part to have overlooked your _criminal_ record…”

Shin Su-ran. She had been a vocal arts senior that he had admired during his university years. Admiration was all it ever was, but her friends saw it differently. It was them that had taken his intentions the wrong way, twisting his words against him.

They were the ones that had caused her paranoia, going as far as falsifying evidence that led to his wrongful accusation.

Law enforcement had treated it as nothing more than a slap on the wrist, but the simple record of that conviction was the reason all the major publications had refused his work. It had been a living hell, making a living then, and Yoongi had grasped onto the first opportunity he could get.

“...but it’s clear to me now, that was a mistake for me to have done so in the first place. I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Yoongi.” Manager Shihyuk finishes.

Yoongi had expected to feel angry, humiliated, or a multitude of other emotions upon hearing those inevitable words, but only thing Yoongi feels now is a newfound relief—it’s actually as if a huge weight has been lifted off of his shoulders.

Yoongi’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He’s received a text.

“Whether you accept it or not, at least I've been doing my job.” Yoongi points at the clock. “Looks like your star employee is late for his shift.”

Jungkook’s name flashes on the screen, along with the succinct message.

_He’s been taken care of. We’ll be expecting you soon._

It’s all worth it.

Yoongi looks at Manager Shihyuk dead in the eye. “Thanks, but you won't have to ask me to leave. I quit.”

He walks out of the office, leaving his dumbfounded manager in his wake. Yoongi discards his uniform vest in the nearest trash can, texting Jungkook back.

_I’m on my way._

Jungkook receives Yoongi at the door, face done up prettily with a little bit of eyeshadow that gives his eyes an extra shimmer. The younger man is clad in nothing but an oversized white button-up, the sheer fabric resting just a little below his hips—not leaving much to the imagination nor hiding the prominent outline of his thin waist. 

Simply smiling at Yoongi’s gawking, Jungkook guides Yoongi’s hand to his hip and allows for it to traverse hesitantly across the small of his back. Startled, Yoongi mutters a quick apology before tearing his hand away.

Jungkook doesn't speak, instead beckoning Yoongi forward down the hall.

Yoongi half expects to see furniture amiss or maybe notice strange smells, but everything about Jungkook and Namjoon’s house is tidy, and otherwise—normal. There is no sign of Kim Seokjin anywhere.

He follows behind the young man’s graceful back until they reach a room at the end of the hall. The bedroom, with its door ajar.

This is the place where Yoongi is reminded, every night, that Jungkook is not his. That Jungkook is Kim Namjoon’s— a plaything at best and a hostage at worst. But Jungkook was soon going to be his. He had given his word and his trust, so what was it to Yoongi if, only for tonight, his body wasn't?

Namjoon is waiting on their bed, fiddling with the lense of a camera mounted onto a tripod. When he sees them enter, he acknowledges Yoongi briefly with a once-over that presumably gives Jungkook the go-ahead to begin. Jungkook brings his face close to Yoongi’s and initiates a rather chaste kiss.

“This is how we always start,” Jungkook sighs alluringly against Yoongi's lips, turning at his heels to join Namjoon on the bed. “Watch,” 

Watching has been what Yoongi’s always done; what he knows the ways of most intimately. He wants answers instead of the carnal display unfolding before him, but he doesn't need to be told twice.

As if part of an unspoken protocol, Namjoon captures Jungkook's lips hungrily, smudging the cherry red gloss he's so painstakingly applied. Without breaking contact Namjoon strips Jungkook of his loose, sheer shirt easily.

There hadn't been much left to the imagination to begin with, and soon the entirety of Jungkook’s firm, svelte body is exposed—the object of all of Yoongi’s fantasies staring him in the face.

Seeing Jungkook with Namjoon is something else. 

Namjoon is commandeering and Jungkook’s body is pliable. Though Yoongi doesn't want to admit it, it's clear that Namjoon knows Jungkook’s body inside and out. Knows— _very well_—how to take his sweet time teasing with his fingers to coax out the sweet whines from Jungkook’s lips. 

It's actually not bad at all. He likes to watch them. The camera Namjoon set up earlier is still rolling.

Impatient, Jungkook bucks his hips against the front of Namjoon's silken trousers, causing the latter to hiss. The rest of the clothes get taken care of quickly. Namjoon pulls the younger man upward by the thighs and spits into his palm, giving his own length a few lazy tugs before lining it up with Jungkook’s entrance.

Jungkook cries out at the intensity of Namjoon entering him raw, curling those slender fingers of his against his mouth and biting onto them harshly in the attempt to silence the shameful sounds.

It reminds Yoongi of a coveted photo, a masterpiece in the making. Such sounds shouldn't be hidden.

Yoongi can't help but reach out towards Jungkook, catching them both by surprise, to pull those fingers away.

“That's right, we want to hear you baby,” Namjoon leers.

Noticing the increasing discomfort in Yoongi’s pants, Jungkook looks at Yoongi expectantly, taking one of Yoongi's fingers into his mouth and sucking on them wetly. 

He unzips the front of Yoongi’s jeans eagerly, palming him through the fabric of his boxers. Yoongi has to find it in his heart to wrench his fingers away from Jungkook so that the young man can focus his attention on a more pressing matter at hand. In a tantalizingly obscene display Jungkook swallows Yoongi inch by inch, making a slick sound at the back of his throat once Yoongi is sheathed to the hilt. It wouldn't have been too far-fetched to guess that Jungkook was going to be great at giving head. The unparalleled pleasure of Jungkook’s tongue and the acrobatic wonders it’s capable of has Yoongi nearly losing all self control.

Jungkook moans loudly around Yoongi’s girth as Namjoon’s hips piston ruthlessly into him. Eventually, Jungkook has to let go of Yoongi due to the slobbering mess he’s become. He holds Yoongi's gaze with half-lidded eyes as he is continually knocked forward into the sheets. Namjoon handles Jungkook's hips roughly, punctuating each of the other’s sobs with a deep thrust until he’s practically reduced the younger to a pleading wreck.

That seems to be exactly what Namjoon wants.

Jungkook gets flipped unceremoniously onto his back. With a few more heavy grunts and an especially painful slap onto the younger’s backside, Namjoon fills Jungkook up, and removes himself. At the momentary loss of contact, Jungkook whimpers, but he is already discarded to the side like a used plaything.

Yoongi is already dying from the anticipation.

“Your turn,” Namjoon affirms, tossing Yoongi a condom. Those possessive, near- serpentine eyes are challenging him, making it clear that he was the only one with the privilege to mark Jungkook up from the inside-out. 

“Of course,” Yoongi concedes, ripping open the packet and rolling the plastic down his length. It was only a matter of time before Namjoon realizes how wrong he’s going to be.

Jungkook hasn't come yet. His muscles are taut and despite the playfulness in his expression as he welcomes Yoongi with outstretched arms Yoongi can see in his eyes the desperate need for release.

As much as Yoongi hates the feeling of being handed seconds, he has to admit that the concept of Jungkook being so eager for more—despite having watched him be claimed so thoroughly by Namjoon just moments before—is a downright guilty pleasure.

It's as if the very thought is running through Jungkook’s mind too, his breathing ramping up the second Yoongi presses into his tight heat. Jungkook’s throws his head back into the pillows once Yoongi starts moving experimentally.

In this particular position it's as if Jungkook’s only got eyes for him, like it’s just the two of them in this world. This time he doesn't resist capturing a kiss from those perfect, abused lips, savoring the salty taste of sweat mixed with that of his own. Jungkook is beautiful, solid and real underneath Yoongi’s fingertips, unraveling with his very touch. Impossibly close.

Still, Yoongi wants more—to see more, _feel more_—and partake in every last drop of Jeon Jungkook.

“You don't have to be gentle with him, Yoongi. He likes it when you don't hold back. Isn't that right, baby?” Namjoon coos, stroking himself while watching them with rapt attention.

“Mm, yeah…” 

Yoongi elicits a particularly great response from the young man beneath him when he presses Jungkook’s supple thighs together. Throwing both legs over the tops of his shoulders for deeper access, it appears he’s found the spot inside of him that’ll drive him crazy.

Taking between his teeth a tender earlobe, stretched out by the gauges Jungkook was so fond of, Yoongi feels Jungkook clamp down hard around him. 

There is a sort of pride swelling inside of Yoongi’s chest, knowing that he was the direct cause of Jungkook’s ecstasy. Resurging within him is that aching need to prove himself. He relentlessly pursues that sweet spot of Jungkook’s until he detects hands frantically clawing at his back to stop.

“Not yet, w-want to come with you hyung—” 

Pushed down onto his back, Yoongi barely stifles his own moans as Jungkook climbs atop and sinks back down in his new position.

Jungkook is taking Yoongi so good and deep, stuttering out incoherent little nothings all the while rolling his hips on top of Yoongi. Namjoon caresses his slender waist from behind, snaking his hands anywhere but the one place Jungkook needs stimulation most, before biting into the dip of Jungkook’s shoulders with a force that makes the young man above him keen. 

Yoongi feels a pang of jealousy as Jungkook removes his gasping mouth from his and turns his head towards Namjoon, releasing Yoongi's hand to slide up his lover’s firm bicep instead.

“Baby wants to come, hm?” Namjoon coos, wrenching Jungkook’s head back by his hair rather painfully.

The words seem to be lost on Jungkook though. Yoongi stares back into blown pupils, their owner too far gone to even haphazardly meet his thrusts. It wasn't like he was going to be able to hold on for much longer, either.

“Please,” Jungkook manages to utter at some point and that's all it takes to push Yoongi over the edge. He slams his hips upward one last time and empties into the condom all he’s got.

Jungkook chokes out a scream at the stimulation from both sides and his hips shudder as he comes untouched.

Yoongi shivers when he slides out of Jungkook’s blissed-out form. A certain haze of euphoria washes over him and he almost succumbs to exhaustion right then and there.

Jungkook glances, spent, at the camera recording their naked forms, then at Yoongi. A sated sort of grin graces his lips as he swipes his fingers through the mess covering his inner thighs.

“Did you know, Yoongi hyung?”

What surprises Yoongi is how Jungkook climbs on top of Yoongi again.

“How happy it makes me feel to be watched? What a _turn on_ it is,” Jungkook giggles deliriously. Yoongi notices Jungkook’s hands gripping his wrists tighter now, the weight of the young man’s body now putting uncomfortable pressure on Yoongi’s limbs. Namjoon climbs off the bed and reaches for something out of view.

“Jungkook,” Confused, Yoongi calls out to him in hopes of reminding him of their mission.

Jungkook only smiles as Namjoon reappears with a silvery roll of duct tape. “I want to share that feeling with you.”

“You'll be a great star for our next film,”

“Film?” Yoongi finds himself pinned down, Namjoon duct taping his limbs together.

“A very special kind of film. One that really gets the blood pumping—a snuff film.” The younger man calmly strokes Yoongi’s cheek as he struggles weakly against his restraints.

“Got it all figured out, didn't you?” Namjoon’s voice is laced with scorn. “I don't appreciate others prying into what’s mine.”

“Joonie doesn't really like sharing,” Jungkook kisses Namjoon hotly. There is a grunt from Namjoon as Jungkook does, indeed, bite down hard enough to draw blood.

“But _I_…” Jungkook pulls away with devilish eyes, lapping up the bit of Namjoon’s blood trickling down his lips. “...I dislike sharing even more.”

“Insatiable, you are.” Namjoon murmurs, almost fondly in a way that makes Yoongi sick.

A sinking feeling weighs down Yoongi’s gut, the events from the past few weeks making sense in a way completely different from what he had imagined.

“It can't be...but those bruises—” 

“Jimin hyung really insisted on putting up a fight until the very end. He should have just lied down and taken it like Seokjin hyung,” 

“Everything...everything was a lie?” Yoongi doesn't mean for his words to come out sounding pathetic, but that's all he manages to choke out.

“You really thought you could know me through pictures alone? Then I must’ve played my role well.”

The room fills with the sound of Jungkook’s pretty laughter.

All the while in the background, Namjoon is busy rolling down plastic wrap onto the floor around the bed.

“When I disappear, the police will find my apartment and all the evidence in it. Evidence that will lead them straight to you.”

“You'd be such a hero, hyung—cracking the case with none other than evidence you've obtained through illegal trespassing, harassment…” Jungkook’s giggling winds down and he sprawls onto his belly close to Yoongi, resting his face onto his hands. “Think the police will believe a stalker?”

Under the bedroom lights Jungkook doesn't resemble at all the shy, helpless victim Yoongi had made him out to be. Yoongi had fabricated this image of Jungkook in his head all along, so desperate for that mirage to be true he had chosen to ignore the truth—that something had been very wrong this whole time.

The real Jeon Jungkook—depraved, unfathomable; the apples of his cheeks flushed with sadistic glee—

Strangely enough, Yoongi finds this Jungkook even more perfect.

“I really did like you, Yoongi hyung. But you know better than anyone…some obsessions are worth dying for.” Jungkook hums to himself, slipping a knife out from underneath the pillowcase. He cuts the last piece of duct tape from the roll laid out on the bed and tapes over Yoongi’s lips.

“Now if you’ll indulge me in mine,”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired mostly by the great movie called One Hour Photo, which I watched again recently. This was a one-off something something that I had written snippets of last year- somehow after revisiting the No More Dream era I saw a photo of Yoongi with a camera and suddenly I thought of Robin Williams' character in the movie?? (The disposable cameras got me really nostalgic though. Anyone remember those?)
> 
> *Occasionally, I like an evil!kook in a story. Bonus if it's with evil!joon too bc I don't really see much of that so this is basically really self-indulgent haha (hope this wasn't too off-putting for anyone). It's good to be back on ao3 again ;;


End file.
